Four Years
by seahorses
Summary: Four Vignettes about the four years Santana was at USC and Brittany was working her way up as a dancer. Part of the Trains verse, but you don't have to read that to understand this. For Brittana Week Day 6-College.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Four Vignettes about the Four years Santana was at USC and Brittany was working her way up as a dancer. Part of the Trains verse, but you don't have to read that to understand this. For Brittana Week Day 6.

I.

Santana is convinced that the air actually smells better in Los Angeles than it does in Ohio. She knows that every scientist in the world would disagree with her, but she really thinks that it does smell better. It's like a mix of gasoline, car fumes, alcohol, urine, and flowers. She'll take it over the smell of cow shit any day.

She's driving over to Brittany's apartment to pick her up for a party. She _hates_ Brittany's apartment. Literally, _literally_ the only benefit is that Quinn isn't there to interrupt their sexy-times. That is if they can ever have sexy-times between the squealing about cockroaches and the weird shit noise the neighbors are constantly making and the sound of the 101 right outside of Britt's window.

She doesn't even like parking her car outside anymore. It's been broken into three times. The only businesses in walking distance are a homeless shelter (which Santana isn't even sure really qualifies as a business), a Home Depot, and a McDonalds, so it's not really that surprising that the BMW her father bought her when she was all closeted and depressed in high school continually gets broken into. The last time they stole her iPod and, consequently, the music library she'd been building for, like, the last six years.

Basically, Britt's apartment is a piece of shit—a different kind of piece of shit than Santana and Quinn's dorm room. Their room is small, and it has a small sink that Quinn has used on more than one occasion as a depository for her drunken vomit, much to Santana's disgust. The furniture is the same standardized prison made furniture she's seen in the pictures of the rest of their high school friends and their floor is orange and white vinyl tiles. It's hideous. Plus, Quinn has insisted on putting up a bunch of weird, hipster music posters and has started to listen to weirder music than she used to and dressing even more like a grandma than she used to.

The dorm room is _manageable_ shit. Britt's apartment is actual, real life, shit.

"You're really never coming up there again, are you?" Brittany asks as she climbs in the passenger seat. Santana doesn't even wait for Brittany to buckle her seatbelt before she speeds off toward the west side again.

"No, I'm really not, Brittany."

"But, I live there, San."

"I know, and when your lease is up in August we're going to find you a nice, clean house share that doesn't cost you $800 a month to live with roaches as roommates."

"They're like my pets."

"That's actually the most disgusting thing I've ever heard you say in all the years that I've known you. Grosser than when you told me you were in love with Artie."

"You like Artie."

"Well, now I do. It was gross then."

"Where are we going tonight, anyway?"

"Eh, football party or something. I don't know, I just _need _to unwind."

* * *

><p>Brittany loves that Santana is in college. It's <em>so <em>much better than _her _being in college. She gets to go to the parties, make the new friends, participate in everything fun, without having to take the boring classes and waste her evenings with homework like Quinn and Santana do. It's pretty much the best of both worlds.

"Drinking already?" Santana asks when she walks into their dorm room. Quinn is sitting on her bed next to Justin, her boy of the moment. He's the Quarterback at USC which is apparently some kind of big deal, and Britt hates him. Santana thinks he's okay, but Brittany's always been a better judge of character than her, so she tends to defer to Brittany's opinion on things like this. Justin has one arm around Quinn and the other around a PBR. He just looks like the typical SC Jock to Santana.

"It's Friday night, Santana."

"So that means that it's appropriate to start drinking at six?"

"Well, what else are we going to do?"

"Order pizza," Justin says, looking up from his computer and taking a sip of his beer. "I mean, we're ordering pizza right now ladies. You want in?"

"I definitely do," Santana says. "What about you, Britts?" Brittany nods over to Santana. She's standing on a stool going through Santana's closet. "What are you looking for, Britt?

"Cups."

"Well, you're out of luck. _Quinn _here has managed to break every single cup my parents got us when we got here, so we're left with just the Solo cups under the bed. What kind of pizza do you want?"

"Don't bother," Justin says. "I have your pizza saved under 'Santittany Delight'."

"When did that happen?" Santana asks.

"I think two weeks ago, when we came back here from that ridiculous Delta party."

"Ugh, do _not_ talk to me about that party unless you want me to start barfing again." Brittany gestures for Quinn to start filling her glass. Quinn obliges, filling it halfway up with whiskey and Brittany tops it off with ice.

"Are you drinking already, too?" Santana asks. Brittany shrugs.

"We're going out aren't we? Might as well get started."

* * *

><p>Santana is drunk. She hates being too drunk, too early, but Quinn was pouring the shots, and Santana had lost her ability to know how to tell Quinn no.<p>

"Bitches!" Sasha yells, swinging open the door to her room.

"Sashy!" Brittany jumps up, pulling Sasha into a tight hug.

"You're my favorite of Santana's girlfriends." Sasha says, winking at Santana over her shoulder.

"I think you're Santana's only friend, so I guess that makes you my favorite of her friends?" Brittany says, grinning.

"You guys are _so_ funny," Santana says, slurring her words. Santana loves Sasha. She's a cheerleader, she's a lesbian, and she's basically been showing Santana the ropes since she got to college. She does _not_ love Brittany's relationship with Sasha, however. The minute the two of them team up Santana becomes their walking punching bag, which is a side to Brittany that Santana had never really seen before college. That's not really the issue, though. Santana's pretty sure that Brittany has a little bit of a crush on Sasha.

* * *

><p><em>"Your new friend Sasha is so beautiful," Brittany says, slurring her words. They've just been introduced to Jungle Punch, and it's not treating them well. "She's like really beautiful, and her skin is so beautiful and perfect and dark and her hair is so long and beautiful."<em>

"_It's a weave, Britt. She's got a weave."_

_"So do you, San. I think I like girl's with weaves."_

_"Okay, we're getting you home now."_

* * *

><p>"Whoa, when did she get drunk?" Sasha asks, gesturing to Brittany.<p>

"You know Santana," Quinn says, "always pretending to be so badass, but her tolerance is seriously the worst."

"Okay, you're drunk too, blondie," Sasha says. "Now, listen, I have a _little _change of plans for you girls," Sasha says, taking a seat on Santana's bed and grabbing a beer from the case at Justin's feet. "Now I know you were all set on going to that lame football party….but the rugby ladies are having a party and I think we would have a _lot_ more fun there."

"There's a girl's rugby team here?"

"_Women's _rugby, Santana. And yes there is. And their parties are awesome."

"I don't know…women's rugby sounds like it's a little dykey for me."

"Oh, get over yourself, Santana. First of all, these girls know how to throw a party. They can drink anyone on that football team under the table, and at least half of them are family."

"That's just the least surprising thing I've ever been told—half of the women's rugby team are lesbians. Shocking."

"Trust me, Santana, it's going to be awesome. And don't give me that 'I have a girlfriend' bullshit. I _need _a girlfriend and you're going to help me with that. "

"Okay, but it's going to be super awkward with Quinn pretending to _not _be a lesbian."

"Fuck off, Santana," Quinn snaps.

"Okay, fine, if everyone wants to go, then we'll go!" Santana groans and takes another sip of her drink.

* * *

><p>There's something sobering about walking into a party. She felt wasted in her dorm room. She felt wasted as they walked off campus, stumbling their way toward the Rugby house, and she felt wasted as they stood outside, waiting for Sasha to finish smoking her cigarette.<p>

"You better be careful you don't light yo weave on fire, bitch, because that ain't no human hair," Santana yells at Sasha.

"Shut the fuck up, Santana. You would know, too, wouldn't you?"

The minute they enter the party, however, Santana suddenly feels like she hasn't had a drop to drink all night.

First of all, there are women everywhere. There are men too, of course, like Sasha said, only 50% of the team is gay, but still. Suddenly Santana's bravado is squashed, and she turns into a shy little girl.

"Sasha! You came," a voice says, loudly enough to be heard, but quiet enough to sound mildly seductive.

"I told you I would," Sasha replies, smirking a little. "Jen, these are the girls I was telling you about, Brittany, Santana, Quinn and Quinn's boyfriend Justin. Guys, this is Jen."

"Welcome!" Santana's not sure what exactly to do with this girl. She's cute, kind of sporty with her hair in a little Tegan and Sara style hipster cut and low-slung skinny jeans. She's also giving Santana a look she's _very _familiar with, but she's used to getting it from creeper guys, not cute lesbians.

"So, Santana, " Jen says, "what do you say we get you started off with a little shot of fun?"

"What's a shot of fun?" Santana asks.

"Santana does _not _want a shot of fun, Jen," Sasha says. "Brittany is her girlfriend. They've been together since High School," Sasha says. Jen raises her eyebrow.

"Okay, new game plan then. Sasha, I'm going to get us a shot of fun, Santana and Brittany, was it? I'm going to get you two regular old shots and sign you up for beer pong, okay?"

"What's a shot of fun?" Santana asks after Jen disappears.

"You'll find out," Sasha says. "She's hot, isn't she?"

"I guess," Santana says. "A little predatory. But she's cute." Jen is back before Santana can say anything more, and she hands Santana and Brittany a shot glass that she's pretty sure is a double.

"What is this?" Brittany asks.

"Sailor Jerry's. I only drink alcohol with half-naked girls on the label." Brittany runs her tongue along her canine and shrugs her approval. Brittany and Santana take their shots, wincing through the burn of the Rum but not wanting to show it too much lest they come across as Freshman, which, of course, they are. Jen, meanwhile, is taking her shot, but instead of swallowing it she kiss-spits it into Sasha's mouth. Santana can't decide if it's hot or disgusting.

She's pretty sure that shot was disgusting, and she's also pretty sure it pushed Brittany over some sort of line because she's staring at the girl on the Sailor Jerry's bottle like she's going to eat her.

"Here's some Natty Light, girls!" Jen says, handing them each a drink. Santana gives her a half-smile and raises her can to Brittany. It's going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>So, now she's drunk. Really, truly, completely drunk. Like, the level of drunk she thought she was before doesn't even compare to the level of drunk she is now. Brittany is also really, completely drunk, except it has somehow made Brittany a professional Beer Pong player.<p>

"It's because you're magical, Brittany," Santana says, standing on her tiptoes to give Brittany a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "You're a magical, _magical _unicorn. _My _magical unicorn."

"What are you talking about, San?" Brittany asks.

"Well, you're winning this game! How is it possible you are winning this game for us after all that you've had to drink?"

"I _am _magical, San. But you already knew that." Brittany says with a wink. "Oh my God," Brittany says once she turns back to the game. Santana looks up at Brittany's hand paused mid-throw.

"What the fuck is she doing?" Santana asks, grimacing. Jen is leaning over one of the two cups left to win the game, her tongue flicking back and forth rapidly over the rim.

"I think she's going down on the cup," Brittany says, her head cocked to one side. "I just don't know why."

"She's _distracting _you guys, obviously," Sasha says as Brittany throws the ball. It bounces off of Jen's nose and into the cup.

"Nice distraction, Sash." Santana says smugly.

"You better pay attention to your own girl, Santana," Sasha replies as they set up for their turn. Santana turns but it's too late. Brittany has already lost her shirt and pants and is dancing around behind the table.

"Damn," Jen says, "she's has great…dancer."

"Damn right she _has_ great dancer," Santana says. "Now keep your eyes to yourself."

"San! I'm distracting them!"

"Yeah, Britt, you're distracting everyone in the room!" Santana looks nervously around at the number of girls eyeing her girlfriend. She's about to start yelling when a tiny blond beats her to it.

"Stripper time!" The girl screams at the top of her lungs. The room replies with whoops and hollers. Santana raises her eyebrows at Brittany as girls start removing their clothing. There are multiple lesbian couples making out on the couch, and suddenly there are topless girls all around them. Brittany grins at Santana. Jen misses her shot.

"Does that mean that we won?" Brittany asks.

"I think so, Britt."

"College is awesome." Brittany says, smiling and joining in with the yells.

"So awesome," Santana says, her eyes widening. "So _freaking _awesome."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Four Vignettes about the Four years Santana was at USC and Brittany was working her way up as a dancer. Part of the Trains verse, but you don't have to read that to understand this. For Brittana Week Day 6.

II.

Sophomore year is easier than Freshman year, by a landslide. Santana's not sure if it's just a matter of her being more used to the workload, or if she's gotten smarter over the summer (she prefers to think it's the latter), but she is definitely less stressed than she was the year before.

Which is odd, in some ways, because she is so much busier than she was the year before.

She's taking twenty units, she has cheerleading, she's on the debate team, she's taken leadership roles with Queer and Ally Student Assembly, OutReach, Ladies Striving for Unity, and the Latino/a Student Assembly. Last week Sasha talked her into trying out for vocalist for a local, all-girl, indie-pop band and they picked her. Obviously. I mean, she's heard her voice, she knew if she tried out she was going to get in, but it just adds another commitment to her already overflowing plate.

The only problem is that she basically doesn't see Brittany anymore. They talk on the phone when they can, which seems odd because they're just twenty minutes away from one another, but Brittany is so tired after rehearsals and Santana has so much work to do, that there just isn't really time for one another in their lives anymore.

That's the thing. There just isn't really time for a lot of things that used to be important to them. Santana and Quinn are still roommates, but Santana can count on her hand the number of times she's seen Quinn in the last month. She doubts that Brittany has seen Quinn since school started back up. All three of them just have new lives that are starting to stretch in different directions. Quinn's into the whole LA hipster scene these days. She's hardly ever on campus, except to go to classes, and spends her free time wandering around coffee shops and bookstores in Silverlake in the most ridiculous clothes Santana has ever seen and her camera dangling around her neck.

Things just changed.

"Lopez!" Santana turns and sees Tamara running up to her, her bag thrown over her shoulder. She's smoking an American Spirit and seeming all kinds of too cool for school.

Santana met Tamara this year, but it's crazy to her that they hadn't met before. Their both in QuASA, LSU, "The Critical Philosophy of Kant" and "Social Constructions of Race and Citizenship". Tamara is one of those people that makes Santana turn into a shy little girl again. She's mixed and she has long dreads and hazel eyes and light freckles across her nose. She's from Barbados and went to some East Coast boarding school, and Santana can't help but feel like Tamara is _so _much smarter than her, so much more enlightened, just better in every way.

"What's up, Cheerio?" Tamara asks once she's caught up to Santana. Santana rolls her eyes, upset with herself for ever choosing to tell Tamara the name of her High School Cheerleading squad.

"Like I said, T, I refuse to apologize for those things that make me happy. Even if they propagate an unhealthy image of women. I'm a lesbian cheerleader of color, I'm turning those stereotypes on their head."

"Whoa, Lopez, I wasn't asking for an academic treatise on cheerleaders. It's just your new nickname. What are you doing tonight?"

"Studying."

"Well, Lee, Erin, and I are working on a project with some kids on the Rainbow Floor. Want to work with us over there?"

"Sure," Santana says, grinning.

"Okay, see you later, Lopez."

* * *

><p>Brittany doesn't really know why she hasn't seen Santana in so long. Things were fine with them last year and fine with them this summer, but things have changed.<p>

Sure, she's super busy, but not so busy that she can't take more than one evening a week to see her girlfriend. Santana's stopped inviting her to parties on campus, claiming that her new group of friends are lame and Britt wouldn't be into it.

She knows that Santana doesn't think she'd been into it because she's started spending more time with her social justice-politically minded friends, and less with her dancing-cheerleading friends. As though Brittany doesn't know what social justice is.

Santana's never made her feel less than enough before. Santana has definitely never made her feel like she wasn't smart enough before. It sucks.

* * *

><p>"I had fun last night, Santana," Tamara says as they walk to class the next day. "I'm glad we've been hanging out more," she continues. Santana just nods. She's thinking about the conversation she had with Brittany before bed the night before. It was all apologies. Both of them are sorry for being so busy. They miss each other. They're sorry they don't have enough time. They didn't make plans to hang out, though.<p>

"I was thinking about going to this show tonight in Hollywood. Want to come? It's Reggae."

"Sure," Santana says, tuning back into the conversation. "That sounds fun." Tamara is grinning now and for some reason it throws Santana. "What class do you have now?"

"That gender class with that hot adjunct," Tamara says.

"Lucky. I have to meet with my advisor," Santana says, pulling in the opposite direction.

"Okay, see you around seven!" Tamara says, rushing off to class.

* * *

><p>"You aren't a really a lesbian, are you?" Brittany's friend Samantha asks as they get stretched before rehearsal. They're dancing at a benefit this week and the routines are surprisingly intensive.<p>

"I never said I was a lesbian," Brittany says.

"I thought you said you have a girlfriend."

"I do have a girlfriend. I'm pansexual."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that I am attracted to the person, not just the gender."

"So you're bisexual."

"No, because that limits me to the gender binary."

"What?"

"Well, I've been attracted to Trans people too. People who don't identify as male or female in the traditional sense."

"Anyway," Samantha says, rolling her eyes, "I don't believe you are a lesbian."

"Why?"

"I think you're doing it to just keep creepo guys away. I mean, why have we never met your girlfriend?"

"I don't know. She's busy."

"She better get less busy. You're hot, and you're not going to be able to fight off the people that want to get into your leotard for much longer unless she shows her face."

* * *

><p>Santana knows something is different the minute Tamara shows up at her dorm. She's in a dress, for one. Santana's not sure she's ever seen Tamara in a dress before. She has her dreads pulled up into a pretty bun with a flower in them and she's wearing a cute blazer over the dress.<p>

"You ready, Santana?" Santana just nods, confused as Tamara opens the door for her and they walk down to Tamara's car. The drive is silent, strangely awkward for them as Santana flips through the radio station. She stops on 92.3, the "old-school R&B" station, but the music at night gets oddly sensual and she feels uncomfortable so she switches it to KISS FM.

The show is fun enough, and Tamara has somehow managed to get them some drinks to have while they sway back and forth to the music. Afterward they go to Malo's for Taco Night. There's live music and the tacos are cheap and delicious. As are the margaritas. Santana gets a house margarita, and then a strawberry margarita, and then a kiwi margarita. Tamara takes of sip of hers and clinks their glasses together.

"I'm really glad we decided to do this," Tamara says. "I'm having so much fun."

"Me too, T," Santana says, smiling large enough that her dimples show. "Brittany would love this place. I really should take her here."

"Who's Brittany?" Tamara asks, still smiling.

Santana's face falls. She knows that she hasn't been the most forthcoming about her girlfriend, but she didn't realize that it had gone so far that Tamara didn't even know she had one. That she had _never_ mentioned Brittany's name before. She feels terrible. What felt before like Tamara taking her out on an "I know you have a girlfriend but maybe it's long distance and I'm going to show you the other options " kind of date now feels like a legitimate, Santana is leading her on kind of a date.

"You know Brittany!" Santana says, putting on her best Cheerios smile. "My girlfriend, Brittany? Have you never met her?"

"No, I haven't," Tamara says, leaning back in her chair. It's barely noticeable, the way her face falls, because she recovers quickly, smiling at Santana, even if her eyes reveal a little hurt. "Does she go to USC?"

"No, she doesn't," Santana says.

"Where does she go? Are you guys doing long-distance?"

"She doesn't go anywhere, she's a dancer, she lives in Hollywood. We grew up together in Ohio, though."

"When did she move out here?"

"A year ago. When I did."

"Well, you should bring her around sometime," Tamara has thrown some money onto the table, apparently finished with their meal. Santana follows her outside, keeping a little distance to let Tamara compose herself.

"I know. I should. I just was worried…I don't know…she's not like you guys, fuck,_ I'm_ not like you guys, and I guess I thought you wouldn't like her, that you would judge me for her." Santana says once she sits down in Tamara's car.

"Santana, none of us are like one another. That's what makes getting to know people interesting. We don't bite, you know."

* * *

><p>Santana drives to Brittany's as soon as Tamara drops her off.<p>

"San," Brittany begins once she's opened the front door. She's cut off by Santana kissing her.

"I've been an ass, B. I've been such an ass. I'm so sorry."

"I want you to meet my new friends, B." Santana says, kissing Brittany long and hard. "I'm sorry I've been such an ass. They're just so smart and…"

"You didn't want them to see that you have such a dumb girlfriend," Brittany finishes for her.

"No! B, that's not it at all. They're just so smart and I feel so inadequate around them and I didn't want _you _to think that I was boring and inadequate."

"I would never think that, Santana."

"Will you hang out with us tomorrow night while we do some work?"

"Only if you'll stay over in my gross, cockroach ridden apartment."

"There's nothing I would love more."

* * *

><p>"Brittany, this is Tamara, Lee, and Erin. Guys, this is Brittany."<p>

"It's nice to meet all of you," Brittany says, smiling nervously.

"Why don't you take a seat," Erin says, moving some papers so there's space on the couch next to her. "We were just working on some boring stuff for a Gender and Sexuality class."

"That doesn't sound boring. What are you studying?" Brittany asks.

"Trans issues, at the moment, and the varying identifiers within the community."

"I just worked on a music video choreographed by a Native American who identified as two-spirit," Brittany says. Santana smirks, waiting to see what Brittany's going to come up with. She is a little bit surprised, though, because she's almost positive Brittany knows what trans is.

"What's that?" Tamara asks.

"It's like being third gender in Native American cultures—Keith described it to me as 'embodying the male and female' spirit." Brittany says. Santana can tell that Tamara is already on Wikipedia, ready to confirm or deny Britt's information.

"Whoa, this is super interesting," Tamara says, scrolling down the page. Santana smirks at Brittany. "What was the music video for?"

"Talib Kweli," Brittany says.

"What?" Now Tamara and Lee and Erin are all staring at Brittany. "I _love _Talib. Love him."

"He's amazing," Erin says. "A lyrical genius."

"Yeah, he's _super_ nice!" Brittany says. "He invited me and Santana over to his house for dinner on Thursday to celebrate finishing the music video."

"You're going to dinner with Talib on Thursday? That's why you're missing QuASA?" Santana just nods. "So cool."

"Britt is pretty cool." Santana says giving her a big grin.

* * *

><p>Santana is sitting on a bench the next day smoking an American Spirit and texting Brittany. Tamara sits down besides her and lights her own cigarette, not saying anything.<p>

"Brittany is really cool and interesting," Tamara begins, taking a drag of her cigarette.

"I know," Santana says.

"Sorry things were awkward the other night," Tamara continues. "If I had known…"

"I know. It's my own fault. I was feeling self-conscious for a some reason."

"You shouldn't." Tamara says.

"Thanks, T."

"No problem. But, now you gotta help get me a girlfriend. I haven't been laid in too long…"

"I think I have an idea," Santana says. She quickly plunks out a text to Brittany.

_Are you free for dinner Friday? _

_ I think Sasha and T would really hit it off._

Santana smirks at Tamara just as she receives a reply from Brittany.

_ Double set-up date? Perf. See you then._

"Reserve Friday night, T," Santana says, stepping on her cigarette and picking up her bag. "Britt and I have an idea." She winks and walks toward class, opening her phone up again.

_See you then? I'll see you tonight, B._

_ I'm coming over to study. Love u._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Four Vignettes about the four years Santana was at USC and Brittany was working her way up as a dancer. Part of the Trains verse, but you don't have to read that to understand this. For Brittana Week Day 6-College. I will post each year throughout the day.

* * *

><p>"We should move in together," Santana says one afternoon in early August. It's stifling hot. The heat has finally rolled in, bringing with it rolling black outs and the kind of heat that makes it impossible to breathe and impossible to be outside for more than a couple of seconds at a time.<p>

"What?" Brittany asks. She heard Santana perfectly well, she just can't believe what she's hearing.

"Never mind," Santana says. Brittany returns to her stretching and Santana returns to her computer. She received a grant that summer to do research on the correlation between voting blocs in communities of color and anti-gay referendums. The week after she received the grant, she also received a picture text from Brittany everyday of different colored Legos next to Playskool same-sex couples.

They continue to work in silence, Santana frowning over an Excel spreadsheet and Brittany working out a pulled Quad. The lights turn off again.

"How am I supposed to get any work done with these constant black outs!" Santana yells. Brittany looks up at her, concerned. "I hate this fucking house," Santana says, standing up and pacing around the room. She's been subletting at the Women's Rugby House over the summer, since the rent is half the price it would be to stay in the student dorms.

"These girls are fucking pigs, they party all the time so I can never get any work done, and I hate this part of town. I fucking hate it."

"I'm sorry, San," Brittany says. "I mean, at least it's a little nicer than your apartment, no offense, Britt."

"None taken. My apartment is a piece of shit." Brittany says. Santana is thinking again, and Brittany is going to let her think this time.

Brittany's been thinking about them moving in together for the better part of the year.

If she's being completely honest with herself, Brittany's been thinking about them moving in together since the first time they spooned after having sex and Santana's face was the first thing she saw when she woke up in the morning.

Which basically means that she's been thinking about it since forever ago.

Brittany knows, however, that Santana has to take this big step for herself. It has to come from her and not from Brittany's suggestion. So she waits and watches Santana pace and think.

"Have you ever thought about, you know, moving in together?" Santana finally asks, stopping in front of her window. Brittany nods. "I mean you practically live here, anyway," Santana continues, "and your apartment is disgusting, I can't believe you've been living there for two years. Plus, we could get someplace pretty nice for less if we are splitting a one bedroom."

"I mean, if you think it's a good idea, I'd be down," Brittany says, trying her best to sound nonchalant.

"Okay, let's do it," Santana says. Brittany can't help but jump up to give Santana a hug, but she mostly maintains her cool.

Santana knows by the way Brittany looks at her for the rest of the day that she's been waiting for her to come to this conclusion for much longer than Santana even realized. It always takes her a bit longer to get to where Brittany is, though.

So they decide to move in together, and spend the remainder of their summer once Santana is finished with her research looking on Craigslist and walking through their favorite neighborhoods to find a place.

* * *

><p>It does take some convincing to get their parents (and their parents' finances) on board.<p>

"_You are _way _too young for this kind of commitment!"_

_ "We're _twenty! _And we want to rent a house together, not get married, dios mio!"_

_ "We're not sure it's the best idea, Santana, but it's your life and your mistakes to make, so we will let you do as you please."_

_ "I know you're just letting me do this because it's going to save you a shitload of money."_

_ "Santana, I suggest that you quit while you're ahead."_

_ "Are you sure Britt-Britt? It's a lot of responsibility, living with a significant other."_

_ "I'm pretty sure there are, like, three murders a week at the homeless shelter across from my apartment."_

_ "Well, whatever you think is best, Britt."_

* * *

><p>It turns out they have some difference of opinion in what will make the perfect apartment.<p>

"I liked that one, Britt. We can walk to our favorite bar, it's really close to a lot of coffee shops, and it has hardwood floor."

"It looks like it has slaves. I don't like that."

"What?"

"The columns outside. They're all white and it's called the manor. It looks like a plantation house. I don't like that."

"But…Britt…it's in a really nice neighborhood, and it's not too small, and it has air conditioning…"

"It still looks like a plantation house."

In the end Santana wins out, but Quinn insists on calling it the "Plantation House" every time she comes to visit. Even Santana realizes the resemblance and makes her best lesbian cheerleader in crime, Sasha, come through the back door whenever she visits.

"Why are you still dating her, Britt?" Sasha asks when Santana escorts her through the back door so she doesn't offend the 'white folks'. "You could do so much better. She's an ass."

"I don't know," Brittany says, nuzzling into Santana's shoulder. "I really am a catch, and she's you know…eh. And a little racist, I think."

"Fuck both of you," Santana says through a grin. "Are you ever going to get sick of picking on me."

"Probably not," they say in unison.

* * *

><p>They throw their first party for Halloween. Quinn and Justin show up as some literary reference that Santana's pretty sure Justin doesn't even get. Jen shows up with her new girlfriend, dressed as Mario and Luigi. She's still in LA, even though she graduated two years ago.<p>

("She's so lame," Santana says. "Are you sure I can't kick her out? I mean, she treated Sasha like shit. How did she even find out about this party?

"No, San, you can't. This is our first real adult party, which means you can't kick anyone out. You _can _glare at her though. Your glare goes a long way with you, baby.")

A bunch of Brittany's dancer friends show up, some too cool to dress up and some too cool to drink the punch.

Sure, it's made of beer and vodka and rum and Sprite and Kool-Aid, but Santana's still in college and not made of money. It would at least be polite of them to drink it.

Tamara comes by, dressed as an ancient Egyptian, with her new girlfriend dressed as a cat. They don't hang out as much, now that Santana has moved off campus and Tamara has a new girlfriend, but their still trying.

"Is this like the 'parade Sasha's exes around' party, because if it's just some sick joke, Santana, I really don't appreciate it." Santana doesn't know what to say to Sasha so she pours her another shot and one for herself. She didn't expect Jen to be here, but it's not like she can kick Tamara out—she's one of her closest friends and she's actually pretty happy she managed to make it to the party.

"We're going to find you a new girlfriend, okay, Sash. Or at least get you laid. But not here. I don't want your nasty sex germs on my new futon so you're going to have to get yourself home to get laid." Sasha rolls her eyes, but allows Santana to drag her around the party from then on.

Santana somehow ends up chain smoking and drinking straight from a handle of Jameson in the shared courtyard of their apartment with a dancer named Stephanie.

"This is just the best whiskey I've ever had," Santana says.

"It's definitely not the best out there, but it's better than that Jack Daniel's shit you've been drinking. God, it must suck to be in college," Stephanie says, taking a swig from the bottle.

"I think I'm offended, but this tastes too good," Santana says.

"You have really sexy lips, and I don't believe you're a lesbian," Stephanie says.

"What?" Santana asks, taking the bottle back from Stephanie.

"I don't know," Stephanie says, shrugging. "I mean you're super sexy and your lips are like perfect and I bet your abs are, like, perfect too. You could get any guy, but, like, guys are harder to get to know, to get close too. I mean, don't get me wrong, I totally think it's cool for you to be a lesbian, and I totally believe in gay men, I just don't _believe_ in lesbians."

"What do you mean you don't _believe_ in lesbians?" Santana asks.

"Well, like, gay men are gay. Duh," Stephanie says taking a sip from the bottle. "And men are _super_ sexy, but they're hard to connect with," she continues putting a hand on Santana's chest and then again on her own. "Not the way you make connections with other women. So, like, dating other women is really just laziness, because your too lazy to take the time to get to know men," Stephanie says. Santana takes the bottle from her.

"Okay, now I'm almost _positive _I'm offended," Santana says, taking a swig from a bottle.

"Sweetie, crisis!" Brittany says, coming outside, her fairy costume leaving a glitter trail behind her.

"You're lucky there's a crisis," Santana says, allowing Brittany to lead her up the stairs back into the apartment. "I'm taking this with me," she says gesturing to the Jameson in her hands. "Your friend Stephanie is an idiot," Santana says.

"I know. Bigger problems. Sasha and T are drunk and they were making out in our bathroom and T's new girlfriend walked in and now they're fighting and Sasha is crying in our bed."

"Ugh. I liked it so much better before we had so many lesbian friends. So fucking dramatic," Santana says.

* * *

><p>They put on their first official Thanksgiving dinner three weeks later. The year before they tried to have one at Brittany's apartment but they didn't have any real furniture so they ate on the floor and the bug problem really made everything in that place miserable.<p>

It's Brittany's idea (of course) but Santana gets really into the planning and the cooking. She starts buying cooking magazines and Brittany makes a mental note (which turns into a physical note in her calendar because her memory has never really been a steel trap) to get Santana a subscription to Bon Appetit for Christmas.

Quinn comes because she's pretty sure she never wants to see anyone in her family again if she can help it. Justin comes because he pretty much follows Quinn around like a puppy dog these days.

Sasha and Tamara show up and pretend that their relationship status is not lingering in an awkward, hook-up, limbo place, even though everyone in the room knows otherwise.

Santana learns how to use a meat thermometer and it turns out she makes a pretty awesome turkey. Brittany makes purple mashed potatoes and they somehow end up with three kinds of macaroni and cheese and three pumpkin pies because they didn't think to coordinate who is bringing what dish.

They remember that the next year.

Everyone gets too drunk, because cooking and drinking wine seem like the perfect combination. They try to play Catch Phrase after dinner, but really everyone is too tired and they just end up taking a giant nap in the living room.

* * *

><p>Brittany's parents come to visit in the Spring. It's terrible, and Santana is unnecessarily stressed out for a week leading up to it.<p>

Santana doesn't want to give them a tour of their little apartment because then they'll see that there is only one bed in the bedroom.

"San, I'm pretty sure they just want to make sure we're not living in, like, a crack house."

"Still, Britt. It just sounds awkward. Can't we just take them out to dinner and to a show, like usual?"

"Santana. I love you, sweetie, but my parents know that you're a lesbian, and they know that I'm not straight and that I'm dating you and that we've been together for four years. I think they assume that we share a bedroom."

In the end Brittany wins out and they have the Pierce's over for dinner. Santana cooks because she's been learning a ton of new recipes since Brittany got her that subscription to Bon Appetit, and they have red and white wine options since both girls have recently turned 21 and have become quite acquainted with the liquor store on the corner.

Sure, each bottle is only $7.99, but it's still about $5.00 more than Santana usually spends on wine, and that has to count for something.

They eat and drink too much, which they're beginning to realize is one of the cornerstones of dinner parties, but the Pierce's don't stay too late because Brittany has work and Santana has school in the morning, but they leave with the promise to take the girls out for dinner the next night.

After all the things she's been through in the last three years of school, it's the first time she really feels like an adult.

Even if, the next day, when the Pierce's are buying her dinner at a restaurant she could never afford on her own, she's right back to feeling like she's in middle school again.

She's starting to think that she kind of likes this—snippets of adulthood with snippets of childhood thrown in—she's not ready to be a grown-up quite yet.

That night, after Brittany's parents say goodbye and drive to LAX to catch their flight back to Ohio, Santana realizes that Brittany is crying after they go to bed that night.

"You okay, B?" Santana asks, kissing her temple.

"Yeah. I just miss my parents. I'm really glad we decided to move in together though."

"Yeah, me too, B. On both counts." Santana kisses her again, and thinks she's lucky that they seem to be on the same page on this one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **Four Vignettes about the Four years Santana was at USC and Brittany was working her way up as a dancer. Part of the Trains verse, but you don't have to read that to understand this. For Brittana Week Day 6.

IV.

She's surprised when it ends.

(She's been told too many times that it's going to be over before she knows it, so she really resents feeling that way now)

She has her black robe hanging over the closet door, and she really can't imagine anything more uncomfortable than wearing it in this kind of heat.

The whole thing seems totally anticlimactic anyway. She's just coming back here in the Fall for Law School, but she knows that _this_, whatever this last four years was, will not be the same in Law School.

Quinn's pregnant.

Santana doesn't even know what to do with that piece of information. Quinn has changed so much during college. She guesses they've all changed, but she half-expected Quinn to become a professor or write the next great American novel.

Which could still happen, but Quinn is still Quinn and Quinn feels defeated. She's engaged to Justin now, so instead of backpacking through Europe or taking an entry-level job as an editor, she's going to try her hand at being a stay-at-home mom.

Santana tried to talk her out of it, but Quinn is still Quinn and Quinn's going to do what she wants to do. Plus, apparently they're grownups now.

(Or so her mother keeps reminding her when she calls to ask them to borrow money. She certainly doesn't feel like a grownup. She feels like less of a grownup than she did when she was graduating from high school)

"Are you almost ready?" Brittany asks, tapping on the door to their bedroom. Santana just stepped in to touch-up her makeup. "We're getting hungry out here!"

"I'll be right out!"

They're going to a vegan restaurant for dinner. Rachel Berry recommended it when they saw her over the holiday's at their annual Glee Club reunion party. Santana doesn't know how or why Rachel knows of a vegan restaurant in LA, but she knows better than to ask Rachel questions anymore. Rachel just makes it her business to know a lot of things, and Santana doesn't need to know more than that.

Her dad isn't eating any meat. Apparently it's good for the treatment, so the whole family has stopped eating meat in solidarity. He's doing better, a little thin, but well enough to decide to drink since his only daughter is graduating from college.

Santana barely listens during dinner. Her parents mostly ask Brittany questions about dancing and choreography and her mother is overly enthusiastic about every pop star Brittany has danced for in the last few years.

"So, are you girls going to stay in that apartment?" Her father asks.

"I think so," Santana says, "I mean, I'm still in school so I'm not going to be making any more money for awhile."

"Plus, I like it. It's kind of cozy." Brittany says.

"A little too cozy," Santana adds.

"You know, that place is twice the size of the first place you're mother and I lived in."

"I know, Dad, you've told me a million times," Santana says. He laughs and they talk about other subjects. They make her feel thirteen and thirty at the same time. Talks about movies Santana shouldn't watch because she's too much of a baby and talks about Brittany's benefits with the dancer union.

(Santana can't believe she's here, so she just doesn't say anything. She can't tell if it's over quickly, or if it's just beginning. She doesn't want to think about it too much)

* * *

><p>She knows that Brittany is worried about her silence when they get home that night.<p>

(She's feeling weird about even calling it her home, tonight. When did she get grownup enough to have her own home?)

Brittany doesn't push it though, because Brittany knows her well enough to know that Santana needs to deal with this herself. She ignores the phone calls from her friends trying to get her to go out because she doesn't know what she's feeling right now, but she thinks she needs to be in her home.

Brittany helps her get her hair just right the next day to fit under her cap. She gives her a kiss on the nose, and she drives them to school because she knows Santana is too anxious to drive without needing to ask.

"You'll do great," Brittany says as drops her off. She places a light kiss on Santana's lips. She climbs out of the car, her gown on but swinging open due to the heat. Brittany grabs her hand before she can walk off to the alphabetical line they're meeting in.

"I'm so proud of you, Santana," Brittany says. "I'll be cheering for you."

"Thanks, Britt," Santana says.

(There are tears in her eyes and she's not sure why. Those are the worst kind of tears. She's not sure if it's because Brittany is proud of her, or because she's going to miss this place, or because she's scared of what life is going to be like. She focuses on not letting the tears fall)

* * *

><p>She doesn't remember much of the ceremony. Her name gets called at some point in the string of hundreds of names, most of which she doesn't recognize. When her name is called, nearly midway through, she hears Sasha on a bullhorn, having made a special trip back to LA for Santana's graduation. She cheers at the top of her lungs when Tamara walks across the stage, wearing both her Lavender Grad and Black Grad sashes.<p>

She cheers the loudest for Quinn, trying to ignore the way she takes her diploma as though her world is ending here as opposed to just beginning.

She doesn't remember receiving her own diploma, although her mother will put the picture of her shaking the president's hand on the mantle for years afterward.

There are parties afterward. First there are parties with family, and once family goes to bed there are parties with friends that go on into the night. Santana is pretty sure she has heatstroke and she can barely keep her eyes open as she's encouraged to take shot after shot.

* * *

><p>She wakes up the next day next to Brittany. Brittany is still sleeping and smells a little like sugar and vodka. Santana kisses her on the cheek, on the spot that the sun always hits when they wake up in the morning. Brittany slightly grins through her sleep and snuggles closer into Santana's side.<p>

She expects the morning to somehow feel different than every other morning in the last four years. She is a college graduate; she has a Bachelor's Degree. She gets up and turns the teapot on and opens the refrigerator to see if there's anything to make for breakfast. She puts her graduation cards in a stack on the desk and tries to ignore the post-it note her mother put on them the night before to remind her to send Thank-You notes. She's Twenty-Two and a college graduate and she can remember these things on her own, thank you very much. When the teapot starts hissing, she fills the French Press and lets the coffee brew. She walks out of the apartment, onto the balcony to get the newspaper. Her mother insisted that all college student's need their own paper ages ago, even though she and Brittany usually only flip through for the crossword and recycle the rest.

The day is sunny and oddly not too hot, considering yesterday's sweltering heat. It's the first day of summer, at least in the world of a college graduate, and it smells amazing. Like flowers and chlorine and grilling.

The air in Los Angeles _definitely _smells better as a college graduate than as a student.

"San? You outside, baby?" She hears Brittany calling from the house.

"I'll be right in," Santana calls. She takes a deep breath and walks inside.

(She thinks she's going to get used to this)


End file.
